Fickle Spring
Poem
Warm winds breeze through the valley
as birds wake up and sing their excitement.
The cold river roars as the snow melts as
slowly as it possibly can.
April comes with more snow on the air
and bitter cold once again,
that digs in and will not let go.
Bears are not fooled by the warmth
and sleep as long as they can.
Temperatures are fickle day to day
as May approaches and cannot make up its mind.
The ice has melted and mud
sucks in everything that comes by.
Smells comingle and burst into the wind
and scatter along.
About the Creator
Fiona Howell
I am Fiona Howell, an Irish musician and a writer hailing from New Hampshire, US. I have two books out on Amazon: The Locked Box and Blackwood. I have three poems published in anthologies by the Peterborough Poetry Project.



Comments (2)
Perfect description
Beautiful n visual poetry.